A strange thing happened to Hermione's Mind
by SlackerJ
Summary: A take on what may have happened inside Hermione's mind as she was tortured while Harry and Ron were locked away. I may expand this to a full story some day, but if someone wants to run with it, hit me up. Regardless, enjoy the plot bunny...
1. Chapter 1

She wasn't sure when it happened. When she finally surrendered herself to the pain of it all.

It had taken a significant amount of time to be sure. She hadn't made it this far without a significant amount of resiliency and will power. But there was only so much that even the strongest mind could take before it snapped and gave in. This was hers.

She lay there, strapped to the table, blood dripping from her arm where the word 'Mudblood' was now permanently etched into her skin. There for all to see and read, a mark of who she was and would forever be. But she was barely cognisant of this as she mentally curled into a foetal position. Ready to accept the next round of debasement that Bellatrix LaStrange had ready for her.

The insane descendant of the Black family had tried to egg Draco into extracting some revenge on her, but even he wasn't up for it. So, Bella had been left alone to have her fun and fun she'd had. Tortures new and old had been tried with no real reason to it, except for the dark ladies pleasure.

'I don't want to feel this anymore,' thought Hermione lacking the strength to articulate. It was times like this she wished that she had Harry's strength. His resolve. His passion to push through. No matter what injuries or torture he sustained, he was able to push through. Continue. That was his real strength. Where his true power lay. And the reason that Hermione had stuck with him for so long.

But, here she was, alone and without hope. Without her friends to draw inner strength was.

'But you're not alone,' came another thought. An alien thought that sounded awfully familiar. Something stroked the hair of Hermione's mental self like they would a crying child. 'I am here to help. Why don't you rest a moment and I can deal with this for you?'

As the unknown entity walked towards her outer self, Hermione swore that it looked just like Harry.

As Bellatrix ready herself for another run of 'catharsis' with the mudblood, she was somewhat discomforted by the amused smile across her victim's face.

"All right, Mr. DeMille, I'm ready for my closeup…"


	2. Chapter 2

Anyone who entered Hermione's room would have been able to determine its owner without much trying. It was a miniature library with a bed and dresser stuffed in as almost a second thought and a reading chair/desk combination taking up pride of place.

That she considered it to be a safe place for her mind to rest was equally as unsurprising. Even the smell of ink and paper had been recreated in surprising detail as Harry took in the scene. Dressed in his traditionally loose clothes, glasses and scruffy hair his features were an interesting mixture of his and Hermione's. He'd been fronting in her body since the Bellatrix torture session and he was becoming concerned for Hermione. She'd originally curled up in a ball, mentally speaking, to hide from the pain as the torture had been the straw that broke the camel's back.

Years of suppressed stress, pain and worry had finally boiled over and she'd finally had enough. And to cope with the situation she had created someone else to deal with the outside world - this perception of Harry - who could deal with the pain and confusion of life. With that task done she had apparently created his inner world for her mind to rest in, and it was, all tucked up in bed and asleep. Asleep and not responding to any of Harry's interactions.

He was covering for her as well as he could in the outside world, and putting on a brave face. But Ron and her namesake were bound to notice the difference in personalities sooner or later. She was acting more and more like Harry with every moment and they didn't need a second Harry. They needed a Hermione. A Hermione who had apparently given up and withdrawn into herself to sleep.

Massaging the bridge of _his_ nose with two fingers Harry flopped into the reading chair.

He needed to do something. Her friends were counting on Hermione to come up with a brilliant to save the day, which meant that _he_ needed to come up with a brilliant plan. It didn't help that all he had was breaking into Gringott's, find out whether Bellatrix LaStrange had a cup in her Vault, breaking into her Vault (a feat that Hermione's memories told him had only happened once in the last few decades) and taking the cup if it was there. Simple, right?

"Damn it, Hermione!" He cried hopelessly at her sleeping form. "Why can't you be here when we need you the most?!"


	3. Chapter 3

He couldn't believe that plan actually worked. It was a stupidly insane plan that relied on any number of factors going in their favour, oh so many things, most of which were out of their control. But it had worked and they'd gotten out alive. Sure, he was sure that the three of them were probably banned from Gringotts at worst or would have to pay some massive reparations and told never to do it again at best.

Charlie and Harry were currently dealing with the fact that they had recently acquired a dragon, and Fleur was helping Ron deal with the emotional aftermath. He, or rather Hermione with him in the driver's seat, was recovering in her room at the Shell Cottage. It was becoming clear that the 'Greatest Witch of her Age' wasn't going to be waking up any time soon, leaving him to begin to flesh himself out in the heat of battle. Not wanting to call himself Harry and unwilling to share his hosts name, he'd settled on Jean as a name. It was technically a French boy's name, but it suited for the moment. Besides, given her name could his host really complain?

Regardless, Jean was discovering himself as a head strong, impulsive fellow with his hosts' knowledge but none of her desire to follow the rules or social norms of society. He'd inherited some of her creativity, but not nearly enough to be as useful or as effective. The swagger he'd shown when he had first come out was still there, along with a certain amount of overconfidence under pressure, but that tended to dissolve the moment he had time to stop and think. Turns out you can be a bad slow thinker and a good fast thinker.

Not that Jean had much time to think on the subject as it wasn't long before Harry was dragging us all (read Hermione and Ron) off back to Hogwarts to find the Horcauxes' to stop Mouldy-Shorts. That idiot is going to get us all killed before we come up with something resembling a plan…


End file.
